


it's just a silly phase i'm going through

by trynawrite



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22101469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trynawrite/pseuds/trynawrite
Summary: Five times Gold very convincingly points out he's not in love and one time he doesn't.
Relationships: Blue | Green & Silver (Pokemon), Crystal/Gold (Pokemon), Gold & Silver (Pokemon)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 63





	it's just a silly phase i'm going through

**Author's Note:**

> does anyone remember this ship. anyways its 2020 and this is a mess but i Miss Them.

0\. 

Fun fact: Gold’s completely and utterly done for. 

He doesn’t know when it happened. Hell, he doesn’t even know how it happened! All he knows is that for the entirety of his life, he’s been minding— mind you— his own business, occasionally picking up a few girls here and there and more than occasionally saving the world. 

And then he’s sixteen and his teenage hormones went all voila! Guess who’s here! and suddenly his ‘own business’ is no longer about him and him alone. This issue charges towards him at full speed and punches him in the gut so that he decides, after two more months of this crap, he’s in dire need for others’ consultation. 

Red blinks. 

Green slams the door in his face. 

Yellow cocks her head. 

Blue prances around in a head-splitting singsong voice and sings about ‘sitting in a tree’ and ‘K-I-S-S-I-N-G’. 

“You’re in love,” Silver states flatly, not even bothering to put down his book. “With Crys.” 

Another fun fact: Gold’s never been in love before. 

“No way,” he says. First of all, it’s disgusting, because he’s not going to be all mushy and lovey-dovey for Super Serious Gal of all people. Second of all, he Does Not fall in love. A capital D and N. He has a reputation to uphold as the ladies’ man, goddamnit! 

Silver looks him straight in the eye. Gold stares the guy he’s known for six years back and has no idea what he’s currently thinking. 

“Prove it.” 

Okay, so Silver’s issued a challenge. This is great. Gold gets to convince himself that maybe, he’s not as completely and utterly done for as he imagined and has a chance to kick his rival’s ass, an act that is always welcomed. 

Case in point: There are five specific situations. 

——  
I. 

Most stories start from the beginning, don’t they? This isn’t a story, and Gold isn’t a storyteller, but he goes with the earliest event out of the five just because he can. 

It goes like this: he’s chasing some runaway Cleffa (‘Hey, did you know that Cleffa may look cute but can 100% kill you after one Metronome to your d—‘ ‘I don’t want to know.’), the Pokémon are veering away from the main road and deeper into the forest and oh crap, he’s losing sight of them, dammit, how is he gonna explain— 

A bright flash nearly blinds him and he drops to the ground, eyes squeezed shut. When he reopens them, someone’s standing amongst the curtain of trees, two retrieved Pokeballs in her hand. 

Crystal smiles. “You looked like you needed some help.” 

Gold rubs his eyes and regrets the fact he hasn’t brought his goggles along for the chase. “Not really. Y’know, I could’ve totally handled it myself, but um. Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” She drops the Pokeballs into his open palm. “I didn’t know you had Cleffa.” 

“Nah, I don’t own them. They’re from the daycare.“ Gold glances up at her, then down again. It’s been a while since they’ve last saw each other— quite some time has passed since the Masked Man. “I never expected to run into you here, though. What’re you doing?” 

Crystal waves nonchalantly. “Just helping Professor Oak collect data. It’s part of my job requirement as research assistant.” 

“What, that old geezer?” He gets a slap on the shoulder in return. “He is an old geezer, everyone knows that. But I mean, yeah, I get you, jobs are tough. Like the Cleffa from earlier. A trio of mischievous ones, they are, I tell ya, always escaping and stuff. Keeps making me work overtime.”

Crystal furrows her eyebrows. “As impolite as ever, I see.” She opens her mouth again, as if she isn’t finished nagging him, but closes it. “Wait, what?” 

“What do you mean, ‘wait, what?’” 

“Did you just say ‘a trio of mischievous ones’?” 

“Uh, yeah?” 

Color drains out of her face. “I only captured two.” 

Gold counts the Pokeballs in his palm and oh no. Oh no. How could he have not noticed? 

They spend the rest of the day turning the forest upside down. Crystal assists him in finding the last Cleffa like it’s her job, going on all fours to peek behind bushes and sending out her own team to search for it. But most of all, she scolds the living daylights out of him for being distracted and careless, and honestly? The whole thing isn’t even close to being his fault. She distracted him first, for crying out loud! 

They find the little rascal napping on top of a branch right before it turns dark. She still doesn’t shut up after that. 

“—and if you had lost it forever, think about the trainer! The trainer, who’s—“ “Yeah, yeah, I get it, yes, please shut up.” 

Crystal scrunches her nose and huffs. It’s almost endearing, but Gold doesn’t ponder on such thoughts. Instead, he reaches for the Cleffa and nestles it into his chest. It mumbles something through its wooziness and snuggles closer as they head out.

“Hm. Perhaps I should work at the daycare too. Baby Pokemon are cuter than I remember.” 

“And go on two hour scavenges in exchange for the cuteness,” Gold snorts loudly, earning him a gentle punch and a gesture towards the sleeping beauty in his arms. 

“Well, I could always volunteer an hour or half. But not full time.” 

“Nope. Not full time indeed.” Gold doesn’t even know her that well, aside from the fact that they saved Johto together. He isn’t sure he would be able to stand the awkwardness.

Or, who knows, it could be fun. 

“You should drop by,” Gold says finally. “The daycare, I mean. We could use a bit more help. And if you don’t nag.”  
They stop in front of the daycare, standing before the setting sun so that half of their faces are in shadow. Crystal fiddles on her bag strap, eyebrow mildly quirked up before saying, “And you could stop by the lab too. Sometimes. To hang out?” 

It’s only when his stomach starts grumbling (doing somersaults, really. But he’s probably just starving. He always is) does he notice he’s smiling.

“Yeah,” Gold says. “That would be cool.” 

—  
Silver gives him a brief look over the top of his book. He’s oddly invested for someone who’s never invested in anything. Huh. Blue’s chick flicks must be working. “I never knew you two started pining for each other at the tender age of twelve.” 

“What? No! That wasn’t the point I was making!” 

“You said your stomach felt strange,” Silver deadpanned. “Right after Crys made the biggest mistake of her life by inviting you to the lab.” 

Gold snaps his fingers. “Thank you! First point— I am not in love with her because her presence makes me nauseous. Or hungry. It could be both.”

Silver stares at him. For minutes and minutes and more minutes. Then he lowers his eyes back to his book and lets out a long suffering sigh.

Gold considers point proven. On to the next one. 

——  
II. 

Crystal invited him to the lab. So he goes to the lab. What originally was a rare appointment gradually becomes a regular routine and over the course of time their how-do-you-interact-with-someone-when-you’re-not-in-a-life-endangering-situation awkwardness turns into well-mannered banter and further evolves into “Gold, if you don’t shut up about how great Red is then I will personally get Green to get Red to come here and kick you out.” 

It never happens. He’s never once gotten kicked out. Alright, maybe he was under Green’s mercy at least thrice, but Crystal? Clean record. It’s something he takes pride in while annoying her brain cells off. 

With that said, he has got a few close calls. The lab’s busiest on Mondays. This applies to the daycare too, thanks to this universal unsaid rule that Mondays are the days of Giratina and which no one is spared. 

This Monday, however, appears to be blessed by Arceus. Some fella went and smashed their football into the fence so now the daycare is closed for renovation. That means Gold gets a day off and is free to do whatever he wants. 

In other words, he gets a glorious eight or so hours to annoy Crystal. 

“Go away, Gold,” she snaps before he’s even fully stepped foot into the room. “I’m busy here.” 

Her normally pristine desk is clustered with papers and documents she would sort but doesn’t today. Gold steps over scattered stationery and plops himself into his usual lopsided chair. 

“Whatcha busy with?”

He’s met with the noise of fingers hitting keyboard. 

“Hello?” When all he gets are typing sounds, he thinks he might as well entertain himself and plucks a stray piece of paper from the floor. 

“What’s this?” He tries to smooth out the wrinkles, squinting at the fine dark print. “‘Our recent research on Steel types have covered—‘“ 

Crystal gasps, and the paper in his hands is forcibly taken. 

“That’s a confidential report, Gold!” she exclaims, high-pitched and irater than ever. 

Gold places his linked fingers on the back of his head and throws himself backwards. “It was on the ground.” 

“That doesn’t mean—“ she hesitates, clearly on the verge of scolding him again, but ultimately concludes that whatever she should be doing right now is more pressing than him. Gold bites back an unprecedented groan as she turns back, away. 

Minutes later he’s folding paper airplanes and comparing distances in audible whoops and cheers— you know, just enjoying life as a whole— when there’s a bang. Crystal whirls around to face him, her reddish palm pressed on the table. 

Well. That sort of concludes his enjoying life plan. 

“Can you,” she says, “kindly shut up for once?” 

It’s the first time he’s seen her this angry, with eyes like slits and a look of neutrality that he’s sure is hiding a boiling surface of lava underneath. A shiver nearly runs up his spine. 

Keyword: nearly. Gold, the brave lad he is, has never known fear in his life. 

He jerks his head as casually as he can manage. “Technically, everyone has the freedom to speak.” 

“And that freedom to speak does not include disturbing the hell out of others!” 

Gold decides to finish the last few touches on his plane instead of saying anything more, because one, goddamn an angry Crystal is scary, and two, goddamn she just swore and that is not. Ending. Well. 

“Gold.” Goddamnit. What’s he done now. “What are you doing?” 

“Um,” he gulps. “Talking to you?” 

She’s in a not-taking-any-of-your-crap mood today. “What is that in your hands?”  
“My paper airplane.” And then by some stupid miracle, he’s able to muster a grin. “Isn’t it just well made?” 

Gold knows he’s done for when she stands up. Her face remains a façade of indifference. 

“That,” she says, “is my meeting plan. The meeting plan I intended to use during the meeting with many other esteemed professors tomorrow. And which you’re currently treating as a paper airplane.” 

“Oh. Right.” He chuckles nervously, unfolding it. “I didn’t know?” 

“Get out.” 

“Aw, come on, Crys, it’s just a simple mistake—“ 

“Get. out.” 

“Crys—“ 

“Get! Out!” 

“Okay, geez! I’m out, I’m out!” 

See, he volunteered to get out himself. He wasn’t exactly kicked out of the lab, he kicked himself out of the lab. There’s nothing to feel bad for. 

But Gold, in some peculiar way, does feel bad. Genuinely. He remembers the way her hair had stuck out in all directions; remembers the bags under her eyes and the yellowish of her skin. 

He returns to the lab some time after lunch, a cup of coffee in hand. He bothers to knock the door for once, but no one’s answering, so he turns the doorknob himself.

Someone’s sprawled on top of the desk, the only sign of movement the gentle uprising of shoulders. Gold tiptoes over, but Crystal doesn’t even budge when he steps on a pen and has to grab the nearest chair noisily for support, merely lets out a soft hum, so he settles for strolling up to her instead. 

Grabbing the nearest notepad, he scribbles down a few words— perhaps an apology or two, he’s not saying anything on the matter—and sticks it on to the coffee cup he’s put next to her. 

Compared to the Crystal Gold has had the pleasure to experience a few hours ago, this Crystal seems so peaceful she feels otherworldly. Now that she isn’t yelling in his face, Crystal, Gold finds out, is actually pretty. Not the kind of pretty that turns out more pretentious than beautiful, and not so pretty that everyone’s crazy for her, but this quiet, simple sort of pretty and when he leans in he discovers she’s really, really pretty and Gold wants to rethink all his life decisions for her. 

She buries her head deeper into her arms, lost amongst her tousles of dark hair, and he takes it as an unspoken cue to leave. 

——

“So you’re an asshole.” 

Gold gives him a look— clearly Silver has no idea what he’s talking about. Maybe he needs to go to school. His comprehensive skills suck. 

“No, I’m not. I’m a gentleman, proven by that specifically included detail in which I gave Crys coffee afterwards.” 

“Wasn’t that detail included just to prove my point further?” 

“Your point?” 

“You said she was pretty,” Silver says. “You spent quite some time elaborating that.”

“What, can’t I state facts now? Anyway, my point is,” Gold presses at Silver’s quiet sigh, “we obviously don’t get along. You know better than anyone that wasn’t just a one-time thing. Why would I like her if all she does is get mad at me?” 

“I thought that was just how you two got along.” 

“You never see me argue with people like that. Except, well, you.” 

“Which brings us back to the fact you’re an asshole.” 

“Silver, buddy, I think we really need to talk about getting you an education.” 

Silver flips both another page of his book and the bird at him.

——  
III. 

Gold doesn’t get seasick. He doesn’t get carsick or airsick or just plain sick either and the only explanation is that he’s tough like that. 

(‘Absolutely false.’ ‘Don’t speak if you can’t stand my awesomeness.’)

But as he leans over the railing to catch a glimpse of the barely visible patch of land on the horizon, he feels as if he’s going to make up for every opportunity he should’ve gotten sick but didn’t. 

“Gold?” Crystal offers, not unkindly, the question silent yet so clear. Gold nods, mustering the strength to plaster a grin on his face. 

“Yeah, I’m cool. Just a bit queasy. Think I ate a bit too many cookies before coming here.” 

She waves a finger at him, disapproval written all over her face. It’s comforting in the craziest ways possible. “I told you to save some for later,” she says, “but oh no, you just had to cram every single piece you could reach into your mouth.” 

“I was hungry and the cookies were fantastic!” Gold says defensively. 

“And one day your digestive system will be done for if you keep treating it like this every time you’re hungry and/ or come across delicious food.”

He opens his mouth to retort, only to be cut off by the blaring message over the speakers. The reminder that they will be arriving at the Battle Frontier soon pierces through the last slivers of reassurance in Gold’s mind and he scrambles for a distraction in a valiant attempt to avert his attention from the rising bile in his throat. 

“Gold,” Crystal says again. Her voice is poised into one of careful calmness.  
“They’re going to be alright. We can do this.” 

Her knuckles are white from clenching the railing too hard and there’s beads of sweat forming on her lower lip. Gold knows her now, like perfectly knows her, as a person would one another if they had two entire months to themselves. She can’t fool him, and he can’t her. 

So he does the best and worse thing he’s ever going to do: he slides his hand into hers as the Seagallop Ferry comes to a stop. 

Her fingers are colder than he expected, but a familiar warmth travels through him when she squeezes his hand back. 

——

Silver doesn’t meet his eyes and neither does he say anything. Gold knows him well enough by now to realize aftermaths of the events haven’t truly left him (and Gold himself as well, although he won’t truly acknowledge), which has him barreling on, saying, “Point number three: I am not in love with Crys because she has cold fingers.” 

Silence greets him. Gold adds, “My type is those with warm fingers.” 

“Do you want to hold her hand again?” 

Silver’s face remains impassive as he watches Gold struggle with an answer. Does he? Does he not? 

“Um,” Gold starts, “maybe? I mean, her hands were cold. But it felt good. Like good in the way her hands were slightly rough but it also felt like Pichu was Super Rising Thundering me and I sort of want to hold her hand again. And again. By the way, I don’t even know what I’m saying right now, so just forget it.” 

He feels like he’s screwed up somewhat at the knowing look in Silver’s eyes that implies he won’t ‘just forget it’. Gold groans, his face heating up.

“Let’s just move on.” 

——  
IV. 

Gold lied. He isn’t as tough as he expected. He’s lying flat on his back on his bed and staring up at the ceiling with a burning forehead and his throat is drier than sand and he’s feverish and sick. 

(‘Called it.’ ‘That was once. Only once. Shut up.’) 

He’s also extremely hungry. Apparently even fevers cannot drive him away from the heaven-sent materialised angels that are food. 

Gold gets up and travels through the empty house to the kitchen like an unstable mannequin. His Pokémon crowd and fuss around him, but they can’t cook, and colds, the nasty stuff they are, are inter-species, so he shoos them away. 

He‘s managed to steer himself through the correct procedures of making ramen, all the while feeling like he’s high on something (‘Can you be high on cold-inducing bacteria?’ ‘Colds are caused by viruses, not bacteria, you dumbass.’), when there’s a hand on his shoulder. 

A part of his brain wonders belatedly if it’s a robber with manners. Another part of his brain says he should invite them to homemade ramen if they’re a good-looking girl. The final part of his brain is just blaring alarms but that may be because his fever’s making him hear things.

It turns out to be Crystal. She looks mildly concerned. 

His mind veers wildly between Are you the one who’s blaring alarms and Do you want some ramen. 

“Are you some ramen?” 

Crystal scrunches up her nose even more. It’s cute. She’s cute. 

“Is your voice okay?” she asks. “Are you okay? Wait, are you sick?” 

“I’m not. I’m high. On ramen.” 

Fevers are the exact opposite of food. They’re sent from the very depths of hell and are the devilish reason you say you’re high on something one cannot be high on to your cute friend. Which is. So. Uncool. 

“You’re sick,” she states. “You’re definitely sick.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Gold. You threw coke and eggplants and udon into a pot and boiled them.“

“Oh, really?” 

“You were this close to burning your entire house.”

“No, I wasn’t.” 

“You could’ve,” she emphasizes, “if I wasn’t passing by and thought the smell was bad enough to investigate.” 

“Uh, thanks?” 

“You’re welcome.” Crystal’s taking off her jacket and appendages to bustle over to the ruined pot, dumping everything into the trash before pulling ingredients out from the fridge. “Now go to bed. You’re heating up.” 

“Pardon?” 

“I said, go to bed. Explotaro, if you will.” 

Seconds later his Pokémon dumps him on top of his sheets. His Pokémon’s taking orders from Crystal. She’s running this house. He has a fever. This is a wild day.  
He doesn’t realise he’s fallen asleep until he pulls his aching eyelids open. Crystal straightens up from her previously crouching position, a wet towel in her hands. 

“You’re awake,” she says. Her voice is tender and soothing and Gold closes his eyes to nod. His head’s on the verge of splitting open. “Are you feeling better?” 

“Not really.” 

She purses her lips. He wonders if it tastes like the strawberry lipstick he‘s sure she uses. 

“Your mother’s getting you some medicine,” she tells him, placing the towel on his forehead. Gold supposes it feels cool, but he doesn’t really know. He keeps replaying the second her finger brushed against his bare skin and he thinks if the fever’s gotten to his brain or something. He’s gone mad. 

“Is it fine for you to be here?” Holy crap, his voice sounds like it’s been dragged across the scraping surface of sandpaper. “What about the ramen? Is it your turn to be the one responsible for burning up the house?” 

Crystal rolls her eyes at him. “Explotaro’s taking care of the fire,” she says. “Also, it’s porridge. Not ramen. You’re not having ramen with a fever this high. But knowing you, I’m honestly surprised you didn’t attempt to make hamburgers.” 

“We were out of bread.” 

“So you thought about it?” 

“Uh huh.” 

She shakes her head, saying, ‘Gold’ in her typical I’m-not-amused tone but he doesn’t miss how the edges of her lips pulls into a small smile. Gold’s heart flutters (‘Fevers are insane, man.’) when Explotaro enters the room, gesturing towards Crystal. It seems to be the signal she’s waiting for, because she gets up. 

“Go back to sleep.” Her hand touches his skin, but it only succeeds in making his insides more electric rather than assuring him. “I’ll go check on the porridge.” 

In his sickly fantasies, his fingers curl around her wrist and he tugs at her hand, saying Don’t go. In reality, his weak hand falls limply on his side and the words die in his throat. 

Explotaro bustles over, worry evident in its actions, so Gold smirks halfheartedly in an attempt to reassure his partner and wishing that for once, it was someone else, before succumbing to sleep once more. 

By the time he wakes up again, it’s moonlight that is seeping through the narrow gaps of his curtains. He sits up, a bone-deep groan escaping him, and places the now warm towel next to the bowl of cold porridge and medicine on his bedside table. He gulps down the latter hastily and the former he almost knocks over and then stares at. 

Ah, right. Crystal was here. He’s nearly forgotten after hours of feverish sleep.

But not quite as nearly as he’d thought, because the few lapses of moments when Gold was wandering between the boundaries of consciousness are here to prove him wrong. He sees her face when she checked his temperature; recalls the way her fingers lingered just a bit when she exchanged towels; feels the warm breath on his skin when she leaned close. 

Gold touches his cheek, breathing in the almost nonexistent whiff of strawberry. 

—— 

Silver isn’t even responding now. Gold doesn’t know if he’s already exceeded the limits of Silver’s attention span, or if it’s just the guy himself. 

“Silver?” he tries. “Buddy?” 

It takes like a hundred more times until Silver finally closes his book with a snap. Annoyance or fatigue is ghosting his features, but knowing the guy, it could be both or none of those at all. 

“This is downright pathetic,” Silver says. “I’m calling Blue, see what she thinks about this.” 

“I’ve asked her for advice.” 

“Then you should follow it. Blue’s always right.” 

“No, she isn’t. Last time she told me Explotaro could Mega Evolve and had me go up Mt. Silver to get the Mega Stone. It turned out to be a Moon Stone.” 

“You’re just stupid, she was using you.” 

“I— well, the thing is, she’s not always right. Like her saying about me being in love with Crys. Which is definitely false.” 

“If you say so,” Silver says, and proceeds to relay Gold’s personal tales to his sister over the phone. He isn’t a good friend. He doesn’t have decent communication skills either, and that results in Gold keeping to have to add important things he’s forgot to mention, like that he’s not an asshole and he‘s gotten sick only once. 

“—and— Gold, what’s your fourth point again?” 

“I’m not in love with Crys because she made my cold worsen instead of the other way round. Bad for my health.” 

Blue’s words crackle over the speaker. “Isn’t that the same as your nonsensical first point?” 

“Similar, Blue, not the same.” 

“Please never become a lawyer,” Silver speaks up. “Your points are drastic and at this point you’re just a lovesick idiot in denial.”

“That’s my lil’ bro!” Blue cheers. She says something more Gold can’t catch and Silver settles into a more upright position, face revealing terrible boredom. 

“Sis wants to know your final point.” 

Right. Last chance to prove you’re not in love with your best friend, Gold. 

“So—“

——  
V. 

Unlike the four other situations, which have all happened over the course of the past years he’s known Crystal, the final one is an event that’s happened rather recently— and the last straw that had him running for help.

Gold’s helping the daycare pack up when there’s a knock on the door. He drops the notebook in which they use to record data into the box in front of him and crosses the room. 

“Hey,” Crystal says. “Do you need some help?” 

His lips stretch into a grin wide enough to tear his cheeks. “Thank heavens you actually came. I’ve been trying to get Silver to come help for ages and all he does is ignore me.” 

(‘By the way, Silver, you owe me one. I can’t believe you didn’t even come at all.’ ‘I—‘ ‘Save it till later, Silv. Gold, continue.’) 

Crystal shrugs. “Well, it’s Silver after all. He’ll show up sooner or later, but if he doesn’t, that’s also just like him.” 

“Crys, I can’t believe this. This is totally unfair. Why aren’t you this lenient towards me?”

“Because you tend to show up yourself more times than not,” she says, stepping into the daycare. “Now, where do I start?” 

She ends up sorting through the remainders of the things left behind while Gold moves boxes in and out. The old couple stops by to observe their progress for a few minutes and tells them they’re going to the store for more tape. 

“Be careful!” Crystal calls, a hand in the air. The sleeves of her lab coat ride down to reveal red clothing and Gold sets down his box to stare. 

“Crys,” he says, finally understanding why she refused to take off her buttoned up lab coat. “Are you wearing those clothes?” 

He might as well have asked her if she wasn’t wearing clothes underneath. Crystal flushes, and it’s so adorable his heart skips a beat, but then she’s scooting away from him, her arms wrapped around herself. 

“No,” she says. At his cocked eyebrow, she corrects, “Maybe. It’s none of your business.” 

“Come on, Crys!” Gold exclaims. “It’s not that bad.” 

“So you do think it’s bad. Which, you know, you’re wrong, because it’s worse than bad. It’s horrible.” 

“No, Crys—“ 

“I swear, I don’t like it too! My mother— you know her, the one with Marill that smell like ragged dolls— she forced it on me with some trashy excuse and I—“ 

Gold gives up trying to convince her, even though the clothes suit her and he’d be damned if she kept on thinking this bad of herself, but her rambles are long. And loud. And entertaining and cute so he won’t complain. 

They settle into silence afterwards, although he does steal glances at her now and then and imagines what she’d look like without the lab coat on, because he really wants to tell her. For starters, she looks great in those clothes. Also because he likes seeing her blush but that’s not the point. 

“Look,” Crystal finally says. “Do you have a fetish about me wearing those clothes or something?” 

(‘You do.’ ‘You totally do.’ ‘I do not. I just think they make her look neat, okay?’) 

“No!” he exclaims, scandalised. “All I wanted was to offer you a compliment!”

She gives him a bizarre look. “Why?” 

“Huh?” 

“Why,” she repeats, looking anywhere but him. “I’m not any of those girls you pick up at game corners and fall head over heels for you over one compliment.” Crystal laughs, and it’s unexpected. It’s awfully bitter. “Not that you would want me to like you. Or not that I would.” 

Gold’s not gonna lie, that actually hurt. He feels as if every single bone in his body is bruised. 

“Hey,” he begins, realises his tone is rough and forceful, and softens it down. “It’s not like that.” 

She still isn’t looking at him. “Not like what?” 

“I’m not complimenting you ‘cause I’m playing with you. I just— I never treated you like one of those girls in game corners. Really. And definitely not because I don’t want you to like me.” 

Crystal snaps to attention. Her eyes, an untainted shade of cobalt, are wide. Pink dusts her cheeks. “Wait. What?” 

Gold blinks, the weight of what he’s just said dawning on him. What. What. 

“Crys, I—“ 

The words catch in his throat. She’s looking right back at him, blush colouring her cheeks in the rightest ways. Her lips look cherry and round and he wants nothing more than to know if she’s wearing strawberry lipstick and they’re, like, holy crap, less than three centimetres apart and if he leaned in they’d— 

The two of them flinch at the sudden bang. Turns out he’s just dropped the box he’s been holding on to the floor, but it’s enough to shatter whatever they had the past few minutes. Crystal stutters and refuses to look even at his direction, and then she’s gone, spluttering about stuff she has to do at the lab. 

Gold’s left to stare at the opened door, his thoughts a jumbled mess and heart going a thousand miles an hour.

——

“Oh my Arceus,” Blue whispers, her voice barely heard. “They have it bad. So bad.”  
Silver groans, his face in his hands. “I know, sis, I know.” 

“Gold, I have news for you,” Blue says. “You’re hopelessly in love with your best friend.” 

“No way,” Gold says. 

“And Crys likes you back.” 

“No way.” 

“Way.”

“I hate this,” Silver mutters. “Gold, just admit that you’re in love. Proteam Omega’s going to be on air five minutes later and I don’t want to make it through seeing your ugly gob only to have it result in nothing.”

“My ugly—“ 

“Have you seen yourself in the mirror?” Silver cuts in. “Your ugly gob may be disastrous, but that smile you wear when you talk about Crys? It’s terrifying. You’re besotted, Gold.” 

“You said you almost kissed her, didn’t you?” Blue asks. “Did you want to kiss her?” 

“Well, I think—“ 

“I’ll take that as a yes. Yep, you’re in love.” 

“Absolutely in love.” 

“No questions asked.” 

“Guys, guys!” Gold waves his hands frantically. “I’m not— okay, maybe I am. Just maybe. A bit. A small crush. It’s fine, I get dumb crushes all the time.” 

“You say it now,” Blue says, “but I bet three years later you two‘ll get married.” 

“Sis, Gold doesn’t know how to be romantic. He doesn’t even know how to confess, much less propose.” 

“Silver, buddy, I can’t believe you’re selling me out like this.” 

“Five years, that’s my bet.” 

“You heard sis, Gold. You’re in love and you’re gonna get married five years later. Now go and do something about your stupid love life or whatever. I’m sure it’s about half ruined at this point and it’s been five minutes.” 

“Silver, this is my house.” 

“Get out.” 

Less than three seconds later, Gold gets kicked out of his own living room, the Proteam Omega theme song blasting in the background to aid his sorrows. 

——  
\+ I.

“Crys.”  
Her shoulders stiffen for the briefest of seconds, shifting as she starts to walk faster and faster. By the time he‘s managed to reach her, he’s panting. 

“Super Serious Gal. Crys.” 

“What’s wrong, Gold?” 

Her voice is tight and clipped— definitely not a good start. He inwardly gulps. 

“Nothing.” Gold, you genius. “No, I mean, everything.” 

Crystal purses her lips. She’s wearing an indecipherable expression Gold both wants and dreads to figure out.

“I thought I wasn’t one of the girls from game corners.” 

Understanding floods his veins. “You aren’t. You’re different. You’re—“ he bites the inside of his mouth and searches desperately for the words “—my best friend.” 

She takes in a sharp breath, glancing between him and the ground. “Right. We are. Best friends. And Silver, too. We’re best friends.” 

Gold nods, but the ‘right’ doesn’t feel right. So maybe he’s a teensy bit in love with her. So what? Just a bit. A bit. 

He starts, “About the daycare—“ 

“I, um, I’m actually busy these few days,” she spills in a rush. “Weeks. I might not make it before the moving.” 

“Oh.” It’s as if a balloon’s punctuated within him, sinking down to his feet. “Huh. Cool. But like, about the thing I told you at the daycare? I meant it. You look great. These clothes—” It isn’t every day she’s wearing them without hiding, and he gestures to her up and down. “They suit you.” 

Crystal blushes like her body’s on fire and then everything is normal again for a blessed couple minutes. He raises his eyes, the balloon refilling, and then hers meet his and she seems to wilt within herself. 

“Er, thanks.” She coughs, avoiding his line of sight and ears tinged red. “I... appreciate it.” 

Crystal looks at him, her expression transparent and Gold wonders if maybe, just maybe, Blue wasn’t all that wrong after all. 

Here’s the fifth and final point: He isn’t in love with Crystal because she doesn’t like him that way. She just doesn’t. Anything other than that brings this thrill coursing through his body, but it’s unlike the adrenaline he feels in the heat of battle or the heart-pounding euphoria that comes with the birth of each baby Pokémon. It’s something brand new and uncontrollable and Gold— well, he’s never been the smartest dude on Earth. 

But what Gold doesn’t have, he makes up for recklessness. 

“Or maybe not. Not best friends.”

A variety of emotions flash across her face—there’s no knowing which is what and where one ends and the other starts— and he stumbles over every single syllable but still persisting: 

“More, really. Definitely. More than BFFs. Yeah. Not like, best best friends, ‘cause we’ve got Silver for that, but, um, damnit!” 

He runs his fumbling fingers over his explosive hair in frustration. “I had so many pickup lines for this, y’know? And now I can’t—“ 

“Gold,” Crystal cuts in. “Just say it.” 

“Can you return with me to the daycare?” He half-shouts. “No, wait, I mean, that’s not the main thing, it’s just that we should grab tea afterwards. The two of us. Alone.” 

His chest is heaving and his mind’s gone blank. What’s he done. What’s he doing.

“It doesn’t have to be now, I know you’re busy. Or that you’re not a fan of tea. You like coffee more, don’t you? I like coffee more too, honestly, it’s great, though not as great as me, but like—“ 

The words turn out muffled. He blinks once, twice, and barely two seconds have passed when they break apart. Oh, and she’s wearing strawberry lipstick today. 

“Crys. Is that a—“ 

“Please stop talking,” Crystal says. Her face is still a bright shade of magenta, and she isn’t quite looking at him, but she’s smiling. Like really, really soft kind of smiling and it’s pretty and cute and a hundred more amazing adjectives his brain can’t summon up right now and holy crap. Gold thinks he might be in love. 

“Alright,” he says. “Alright. And I thought you like me for my jabbering mouth.” 

Her blush deepens, if that’s even possible. “Don’t go getting a big head about it now.” 

The balloon expands and expands and he’s on the verge of bursting or exploding, either one is cool, and it turns out anyway he actually is completely and utterly done for. The fact that he doesn’t know when and how it happened remains. 

But it’s fine. This is fine. 

He’s completely and utterly in love and everything is more than fine.


End file.
